


Just What I Needed

by Gallifrey101



Series: Rock 'N' Roll Ain't Noise Pollution [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallifrey101/pseuds/Gallifrey101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not knowing what to do with the gates of Heaven and Hell closed, Castiel decides to take up singing and guitar. All he needs now is a band . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just What I Needed

“That’s it, I’m done,” Tegan proclaimed, clambering out of one of the comically small wooden chairs and knocking it over in the process.

“Tegan, come on!” Jeremiah sighed, burying his head in his hands. He was _done_ dealing with Tegan’s bullshit. “Stop being a baby.”

“There hasn’t been a single person!” Tegan said. “Not one single person has showed a speck of talent today! We’re wasting our time.”

“I thought the guy with the tuba was pretty good,” Alexander murmured, twirling the blue pen he’d been using to write notes between his long, nimble fingers.

“Well, we’re not looking for a fucking tuba player!” Tegan snapped. “We need a singer and a lead guitarist and we’re wasting our goddamn time auditioning talentless assholes who wouldn’t know music if it was shoved up their ass!”

Jeremiah let out another loud sigh. He understood where Tegan was coming from. They’d been in this room for _hours_ , listening to unexperienced guitar players pluck the wrong string and tone-deaf singers belt out garbled words. All they needed was _two_ decent musicians, a singer and a guitarist to replace the assholes who left the band because they thought the others were holding them back. He wanted this to be over just as much as Tegan, but if they wanted to get _anywhere_ , they needed more members.

“Look, we have one guy left,” Jeremiah said, waving the audition sign-up sheet clenched in his left hand. “One guy and we can go home.”

“Fuck that,” Tegan said, grabbing his coat off the back of his fallen chair. “I’m tired. You guys can stay here and waste your time but - ”

“Sit down before I make you, asshole,” Bret growled from his spot at the end of the long, wooden table. The three other men looked at him in shock. Bret rarely said anything, unless he was timidly suggesting an idea or trying to calmly settle a dispute between Tegan and whoever he decided to pick a fight with. “You want to be in this band, you _participate_ in this band - suffering and all.”

Tegan blinked before crossing his arms and shuffling back to his seat behind the table. “Fine. But only because it was fun to hear you lose it, dickweed.”

Bret rolled his eyes, leaning his cheek on his hand and retreating to his usual expressionless and silent exterior.

“So, who’s next?” Alexander asked, peeking over Jeremiah’s shoulder to glance at the sign-up sheet.

“Uh, some guy named Castiel Winchester,” Jeremiah said, wincing internally at the name. Who in their right mind would call their child that?

“Great, he’s a freak,” Tegan groaned, banging his head against the table.

“Just because his name is weird doesn’t mean he’s a freak,” Jeremiah said, though with the luck they’d been having today, he would be a circus clown.

“Whatever. Send him in,” Tegan said with an absent wave of his hand.

“NEXT!” Alexander screamed at the door, causing Jeremiah to cringe and Tegan to look up and shoot him a glare. Bret remained still.

The old, oak door opened slowly, it’s rusty hinges creaking and groaning in protest. A man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes strode in, balancing two guitar cases over each shoulder. He wore a long-sleeved green Henley, with dark, ripped jeans. He flashed the men a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he did. He looked to be in his early forties, and Jeremiah couldn’t help thinking he was old, despite him and the band only being ten to twelve years younger.

The man carefully deposited the two cases on the ground, before turning to face the members with a stiff posture. Nerves, maybe? “Hello,” he said and good Jesus, that voice was deep. It sounded like he’d spent his morning gargling gravel. “I am Castiel.”

Tegan snorted and Jeremiah elbowed him in the ribs. Castiel tilted his head to the side, surveying them, unblinking. Jeremiah shifted uncomfortably. Okay, he had to agree with Tegan on this one. This guy _was_ a freak.

“Hi there,” Jeremiah managed in his friendliest voice. “I’m Jeremiah, I’m the bassist in _Fallen From Grace_.” He nodded to Tegan to introduce himself.

“Drums,” Tegan huffed, waving two fingers in a silent salute. Jeremiah shook his head. He loved Tegan like a brother, but it was almost concerning how many times he’d considered killing the asshole.

“I’m Alexander and I’m the pianist,” Alexander said with an uneasy smile.

“And I’m Bret and I play electric guitar, among other things,” Bret murmured. Castiel nodded politely at them and an awkward silence spread throughout the room, the musicians at a loss of what to say to a guy that looked at them as if he was staring into their soul.

Tegan let out a loud sigh, sinking lower in his tiny chair. “So, you’re auditioning for the lead guitarist?”

Castiel looked grateful for the opportunity to speak. “Actually, I am auditioning for the position of the lead guitarist and the vocalist. I was unsure if I could audition for both, but I’d hoped this would be acceptable.”

Jeremiah blinked. God, this guy spoke like he was vomiting a thesaurus. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, that’s fine. So, what’re you gonna play for us?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side in consideration. “I’m not sure. I brought both guitars because I was unaware of what you’d like for me to play. I assumed you would have music for me.”

“So you didn’t prepare anything?” Jeremiah asked, raising an eyebrow. This might be the worst audition they’d had so far. And, yes, he was including the guy who came in with a spoon _._

“Well, I thought I could give you a selection, and you could pick.”

“Dude, just play something!” Tegan exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table, causing Jeremiah to jump.

Castiel shrugged. “All right. Do you have an amp?”

“In the corner,” Jeremiah said, pointing to Bret’s cheap amplifier. As soon as Castiel turned around to hook up his guitar, the four men exchanged looks and whispers.

“I told you he’d be a freak,” Tegan grumbled, burying his face in his hands.

“Give him a chance, maybe he - I mean, he’s probably - forget it, I can’t even defend this one,” Jeremiah huffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Do we really have to sit through this?” Tegan asked. “We could just tell him we ran out of time and be done with it.”

“Maybe we could ask him some questions,” Bret suggested quietly. “Just about his life. To make sure he’s not entirely crazy.”

“Yeah, ask him if he’s ever killed anyone,” Alexander muttered. Tegan snorted, while Jeremiah glared. Before he could respond, the sound of Castiel clearing his throat echoed throughout the cramped room.

“I do not mean to interrupt your conversation, but I’m ready to perform,” Castiel said, a dark green Fender Strat hung over his shoulder. With his rigid stance and stony expression, he looked more like a drill sergeant than a guitarist.

“Um, before you do, we just wanted to ask you a few questions,” Jeremiah said.

“Of course,” Castiel said with a smile that could only be described as _unnatural._ “What do you wish to know?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question? What the hell was he supposed to ask this guy? “Well, how old are you?”

“Thirty-eight, I believe,” Castiel replied thoughtfully.

“You _believe_?” Tegan echoed, glancing at Alexander out of the corner of his eye, who shrugged.

“Yes, I think that’s what it says on my driver’s license.”

What. “Um . . . okay,” Jeremiah said carefully. “And what do you do?”

Castiel shrugged. “I used to hunt demons, but me, my fiancé, and brother-in-law retired. Now I volunteer wherever help is needed.”

Jeremiah blinked. “R - right,” he managed to stutter out. He was starting to consider calling security. Did this building have security? Dear God, he hoped so.

“Just play,” Tegan groaned out, burying his face in his hands. “Let’s get this over with.”

Castiel frowned, but nodded, hands hovering over the guitar. “I’m going to play a song that my fiancé enjoys hearing,” he stated, the first sign of emotion displaying on his face in the form of a blush.

“Whatever,” Tegan murmured, quiet enough for Castiel to miss.

Castiel strummed the first chord and the musician's heads immediately snapped up. Tegan’s jaw dropped, Alexander’s eyes widened, and Bret let out a gasp. For one thing, the chord was perfect. It was clear and crisp, the sound consuming the small room and reverberating off the walls. Secondly, it was most definitely the beginning of _AC/DC_ ’s _Back in Black_.

“I feel like I’m in a fever dream,” Alexander stated, eyes glued to Castiel, who had lost his stiff position, and was now bent over the guitar, strumming with fervor. And then he began to sing.

“ _Back in black, I hit the sack, I’ve been too long, I’m glad to be back!_ ” His gravelly voice caressed the words, harsh and rough with an edge of something smooth, like honey. He sounded better than fucking Brian Johnson. If Jeremiah’s mouth hadn’t been open before, it was now.

Tegan recovered first, shaking his head in disbelief and holding up his hand to signal Castiel to stop playing. Castiel looked up from his guitar, face falling slightly when he saw Tegan’s raised hand. He stopped strumming, immediately straightening up and clearing his throat. “I - I apologize if I’m not up to par with the other auditions you’ve had today. I usually just play for my fiancé - I suppose I’m not exactly a ‘professional.’” He bent his fingers in air quotes around the word, ‘professional.’

“No, dude, that’s not - a chick likes that song?” Tegan managed to splutter out. Jeremiah restrained himself from slapping a hand to his face. Of course the first thing Tegan wouldn’t be about music at all.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed and a shiver ran down Jeremiah’s spine. Jesus, this guy was terrifying. For all he knew, he could have a knife up his sleeve. Maybe he’d planned on distracting them with his guitar before he murdered them all. “My finacé is not a - ”

“Don’t mind him, Tegan’s an asshole,” Alexander said quickly, causing Tegan to let out an indignant, “Hey!” “It doesn’t matter that you just play for your fiancé - you’re the best audition we’ve had today.”

“Though that’s not saying much . . . ” Tegan grumbled, causing Jeremiah to slap him upside the head.

“Really!?” Castiel exclaimed, his whole face lighting up. His cheeks flushed, and he rubbed his arm almost bashfully. “I very much enjoy playing guitar and singing. I would be delighted to be in your band, if you approve.”

“Hold your horses, buddy, your audition’s not over yet,” Tegan said with a roll of his eyes. Jeremiah buried his face in his hands. Why was Tegan being such a douche to this guy? Granted, he was a psycho, but he was a psycho who could play guitar. Not to mention, their only hope. “ _Back in Black_ is great and all, but it’s pretty simple. Can you do something a little more complicated?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side, examining the drummer thoughtfully. “I suppose so. I could . . . hmm . . . perhaps [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15eu7ar5EKM) is more to your liking?” Without another word, he placed his fingers back on the guitar and strummed a few simple chords. Before Tegan could object, Castiel picked up the pace, fingers dancing erratically across the neck. His fingers blurred as he played note after note, each one complimenting the last. Jeremiah swallowed. Psycho or not, they _needed_ this guy in their band.

He exchanged looks with Alexander and Bret, who both gave a silent, excited nod. He tried to communicate his thoughts with Tegan, but he was too busy staring at Castiel with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“Holy shit,” Tegan breathed, causing Castiel to look up from where his fingers were sliding along the strings. He paused, the silence louder than sweet sounds of the guitar.

“Is it . . . was that not satisfactory?” Castiel asked softly, looking down at his shoes.

“No, man, that was incredible,” Jeremiah said earnestly. Castiel’s head snapped up in shock and Jeremiah shrunk down as he was met with that piercing gaze. “Before we make our decision, I was wondering if you have any softer songs you could sing. _Back in Black_ is great, but it’s really harsh, and not all of our songs are like that.”

Castiel nodded. “I have a song I wrote for my fiancé that’s soft.”

Jeremiah’s eyebrows rose. “You write songs?”

“Oh yes, many.”

Jeremiah exchanged a look with Alexander and Bret. The two of them wrote some of their own songs, but most of the songs they had were courtesy of the assholes that left the band, claiming the music was shit anyway, so they could keep it. They desperately needed new material. This guy was a godsend.

“Okay, well, go ahead,” Jeremiah said with an encouraging wave of his hand. “Sing whatever you feel comfortable with.”

Castiel nodded eagerly, before bending down to open the other guitar case and pulling out a tan acoustic. He slung the leather strap hanging from the guitar’s neck over his shoulder and placed his fingers delicately on the strings. He began to strum softly, the gentle movements of his fingers causing melodious notes to drift.

“ _With everything ahead of us, we left everything behind,”_ Castiel sang and Jeremiah almost cried tears of joy. This guy was perfect. Not only could his gravelly voice belt out the rough tones of _AC/DC,_ but it seemed the underlying soft edge he possessed appeared when he was singing something more soothing. He had it all.

If they didn’t ask the psychopath to join, their career as a band would officially be over.

Jeremiah quietly scooted closer to Alexander, not wanting to disturb Castiel who seemed happy to be strumming away at his guitar. “So, what do you think? Is he in?”

“Is that even a question?” Alexander shot back, glancing at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. “He’s weird as fuck, but he doesn’t seem homicidal and he can play guitar and sing. Those are basically all the credentials we need.”

“Hey, assholes,” Tegan said, loud enough to cause Castiel to stop playing and examine them curiously. “Care to share with the class?”

Both Jeremiah and Alexander shot him a glare, before the bassist cleared his throat pointedly. “We were just discussing the possibility of Castiel joining the band,” he said with a glance in the singer’s direction. “And we both agreed that Castiel would be a good fit.”

The grin that spread across Castiel’s face was akin to a little girl’s expression after being given a kitten for her seventh birthday. “O - oh. I see. Does that mean . . . ?”

“It doesn’t mean anything until we _all_ agree,” Tegan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Alexander and Jeremiah like a petulant child that hadn’t been allowed to get the toy he wanted at the supermarket. It would be almost comical, if he wasn’t endangering their chances of getting this guy in their band.

“Well, what do you think, Tegan?” Jeremiah snapped, keeping his voice low enough for Castiel not to hear but sharp enough to cause Tegan to recoil. He had had _enough_. “Do you have someone else in mind for the position, huh? Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t let this guy in! One!”

Tegan glared. “He’s a psychopath,” he hissed, his voice a harsh whisper.

“So he’s a little unconventional!” Jeremiah said with a wave of his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little strange!”

“He said he used to hunt demons, Jer. _Demons!_ ”

Jeremiah cringed. Point taken. “Okay, so he’s crazy. But he can play guitar and he can sing and that’s all we really need.”

“Bullshit. We also need a place to practice,” Tegan pointed out. “And the money the four of us have is not enough to rent out a space. We agreed that a person would only be eligible to join the band if they could pitch in for a venue, no matter how good they are. Does this guy look like he’s rolling in dough?”

Jeremiah shrugged. “No, but he said he has a fiancé. She could have a few bucks.”

Tegan huffed. “I bet you my month’s rent they’re both living in a box.”

“Let’s ask him,” Bret piped up suddenly. Tegan raised an eyebrow and Bret rolled his eyes. “Not about living in a box obviously, but if he has any money to spend. If he does, he’s in. If not, well, we’re screwed.”

“Fine,” Tegan sighed, sinking into his chair. “Ask away.”

Jeremiah glanced at Alexander, who nodded in agreement. He directed his gaze back to Castiel, who seemed to have been watching them argue with each other with a curious expression on his face. He cleared his throat. “Castiel,” he started, causing the man’s gaze to snap to him. “Before we make our decision, we were wondering if you could pitch in to rent out a place to practice. Otherwise, we have nowhere to play.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Well, actually, my house is very expansive. There are many empty rooms that have no use. I believe if I were to consult my fiancé, we would be allowed to practice in a designated area.”

“Dude, that would be perfect,” Alexander said quickly. Jeremiah knew Alexander didn’t have a lot of money to spend on a venue - he barely had enough to keep himself fed and sheltered. “Do you think she’ll be okay with it?”

“Yeah, it sounds like she has you on a pretty tight leash,” Tegan said with a poorly contained snicker.

Castiel’s frowned, his eyebrows furrowing and his piercing gaze meeting Tegan’s. Jeremiah shook his head. Why did Tegan insist on getting the psychopath mad? “My fiancé is not- ”

“Please ignore him,” Jeremiah sighed, rubbing a hand against his forehead in frustration. “How soon can you ask?”

“I can ask right now,” Castiel said, his frown smoothing into a slight smile. “Please excuse me for a moment.” Castiel turned fluently on his heel, opening the creaking door and exiting the room.

Jeremiah finally allowed himself to let out a groan. He was exhausted. If Castiel’s fiancé said no, they were done for. He bit his lip. Who knew? Maybe she was nice - maybe she was sane. But then again, what kind of woman would be crazy enough to marry a man like Castiel?

(*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*)

Dean let his head loll back, letting out a wince as it banged against the shitty plaster of the wall. He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and checking the time. Quarter after four. They’d been here for two hours.

He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes in a totally necessary and not at all dramatic gesture. Cas had insisted they get here before everyone else, despite being last on the sign-up sheet and Dean hadn’t had the heart to deny him. He hadn’t had the heart to deny him any of this, really.

Ever since they’d retired, after closing off the gates of Hell with the demons inside and locking up Heaven with the angels where they belonged, Cas had been . . . restless. Sam had started looking into going back to school, and Cas had encouraged Dean to apply at a local auto repair shop, but Cas had been at a loss at what to do with his newfound humanity.

After doing some research with the help of Sam, Cas simply decided he wanted to help people. He started volunteering at hospitals, animal shelters, senior’s homes, you name it. But he still hadn’t felt like he was doing enough.

Dean, on the other hand, felt like he was doing too much, especially if he wasn’t getting anything out of it. But of course, Cas had started spewing that mumbo jumbo about the gift of giving and helping humanity being its own reward and a lot of other shit that really just turned into a lecture about how it was their duty to help people in need. Dean pointed out he and Sam had been doing that since they were kids and Cas had smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and said, “Which means Ihave _a lot_ of catching up to do.”

Still, Cas admitted he felt like he was missing something, like he couldn’t bring people all the joy they needed, and Dean had jokingly suggested he start singing them folk songs. Of course, Cas took it to heart, and practically begged Dean to sign him up for singing and guitar lessons. And Dean, having been unable to refuse him almost anything since they’d gotten together after Dean told him he needed and loved him in that godforsaken crypt, relented. With a little stolen money from Charlie (hey, they saved the world twice, they deserved it, okay?), Cas had been the proud owner of two new guitars and two music lessons a week.

He’d taken to it quickly, singing and strumming everywhere he went; to the seniors, to the patients, to the goddamn animals. He even sang lullabies to Dean, a secret which Dean wouldn’t give up if he was tortured. Sometimes, he played for money on street corners or in the subway stations, money which he would promptly donate to charity. It wasn’t long before he surpassed the skill of his teachers, who deemed him a musical genius.

After his teachers said they had taught him all they knew, he started writing his own songs. All of which, you guessed it, were about Dean. A fact Dean was embarrassed about until Cas made one of his speeches about how much he loved him and a bunch of other mushy junk that made Dean fall for him just a little bit more, if that was even possible. Long story short, he now had a one-man band for a fiancé.

Cas hadn’t exactly known to do with his gift, despite the places he sang and played at on a regular basis. He loved what he did, Dean knew, but he knew Cas wanted a bigger audience - he wanted more people he could make happy. So when Dean had been filling up baby at a nearby gas station and noticed a flyer for a band wanting new members, Dean had eagerly ripped it off its post and drove home to Cas. _After_ laughing at the irony of the name, of course.

Now, a week later, here he was, waiting for Cas to finish his audition, which seemed to be the longest yet. Dean would take that as a good sign.

He hoped Cas wouldn’t be too disappointed if he didn’t get the part. He was an amazing musician and only a complete moron wouldn’t want Cas in their band, but he did come on a little strong. As in, “I’m an angel of the lord,” strong.

Suddenly, the old, creaking, oak door opened and Cas strode out, face impassive. He turned to close it quietly behind him and Dean tried not to look suspicious as he tried to get a read on his fiancé’s expression. Dean opened his mouth to ask how it went, but before he could get a word out, Cas catapulted himself into his lap, a brilliant smile spread across his face.

“Dean, Dean, Dean, they want me in their band!” Cas exclaimed happily, practically bouncing with excitement.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Really? Dude, that’s amazing! You’re gonna be the next Jimmy Page!”

Cas cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowing. “Who?”

Dean gawked. Dean had educated him in all his music, how could he forget Led Zeppelin!? “Just for that, I’m calling off the wedding.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I was attempting to make a joke. Anyway, they said that before they make their decision, they wanted to know if I could help provide a place to practice, as they currently lack one. Therefore . . . ”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Therefore what?” he prompted. Cas looked at him pointedly and it almost audibly clicked. “Uh, no. No way in hell.”

“Please, Dean!” Cas begged, his face transforming into something akin to Sam’s wounded puppy look. “There are many spare rooms in the bunker. We won’t play too loudly or disturb you and Sam.”

Dean sighed, banging his head against the wall in exasperation. “It’s a secret bunker, Cas! _Secret._ ”

“I won’t allow them to wander anywhere dangerous!” Cas persisted. “We’ll stay in a designated area and they won’t tell anyone where they’re going! I’ll make sure of it.”

“That’s creepy, Cas.”

“Beloved, please!” Cas said. Heat flooded into Dean’s cheeks at the nickname. Why had he agreed to let the ex-angel use that in public? “I feel like - like I’m finally doing something worthwhile. I know it’s difficult to understand, but all I want is to be able to help people, to make a difference in someone’s life. I feel like I’m finally on the road to accomplishing that. And the only thing I need is one room in the bunker. I just - _please_.”

Dean’s hard expression softened and he mentally cursed himself for giving into those blue eyes. “Fine,” he barked out, ignoring the warmth that spread through his chest as Cas’s face lit up. “You get one room. Don’t show them anything else in the bunker and make sure they keep it under wraps. Otherwise, we kick ‘em to the curb. Got it?”

“Yes, Dean, thank you!” Cas exclaimed before planting wet kisses all over his face.

“All right, all right, get off me, you sap,” Dean managed halfheartedly, eyes darting around the empty hall to make sure no one was witnessing this. “Go tell your new band the news.”

(*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*)

The door flew open and Jeremiah jumped in his seat as Castiel raced back in, his stoic composure replaced by unadulterated joy. It looked like he’d finally taken the stick out of his ass. “The answer is yes!” Castiel exclaimed, a gummy smile stretched across his face. “Everything is a-okay! We can practice at my house!”

Jeremiah couldn’t help smiling at the exuberant expression on the man’s face. You almost couldn’t detect the crazy. “Well, in that case . . . ” Jeremiah started, glancing at his bandmates, who all, somewhat hesitantly, nodded. “You’re in.”

Castiel beamed, eagerly approaching Jeremiah and shaking his hand fervently. “Thank you, I look forward to working with you,” he said, blue eyes never wavering from Jeremiah’s, and yeah, that was only incredibly creepy.

“This isn’t a job interview,” Tegan snorted, kicking his feet up on the table. “You don’t have to act like some stuck up lawyer.”

“Oh, of course, apologies,” Castiel replied hastily, taking two anxious steps back from Jeremiah to address the group. “You have my number. You may text me if you have any inquiries about where we’ll be practicing or about myself. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

“Nah, you’ve probably been waiting here long enough,” Jeremiah said with a wave of his hand. “We’ll pick a time later in the week and meet up with you then. Nice meeting you, man.”

“Nice meeting all of you, as well,” Castiel said pleasantly, practically bowing. Jeremiah and Alexander exchanged a look. Okay, so maybe this guy could get weirder. “Goodbye.”

Without another word, he strolled out of the room, his grin so wide it looked like it was about to fall off his face. He closed the door behind him, leaving the four men to stare at the empty space in silence.

“So . . . ” Alexander stated, tracing his pen on his notepad absently. “That just happened.”

“Hey, guys?” Bret asked, small voice seeming even quieter in the cramped room.

“Yeah?” they chorused

“What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is my first fan work in a while. I'm still working on Between the Lines, but I've been having trouble writing lately due to some personal issues. I figured I'd get back into it by playing around with my own characters as well as Supernatural's. I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to leave a comment/and or kudos after the tone :P
> 
> The songs Castiel was playing/singing (in order) were:
> 
> Back in Black - AC/DC  
> Cliffs of Dover - Eric Johnson  
> Broken - Jack Johnson
> 
> You should check them out!


End file.
